Digging Deeper: Depth vs. Fun

 

29 And Levi made him a great feast in his house, and there was a large company of tax collectors and others reclining at table with them.

Luke 5:29 (ESV)


 

DEPTH vs. FUN

 

Tackling pride can be a soul-searching, messy process. If pride truly is the first sin, then it is also the most universal sin. As I reflected on this week’s verses, one in particular grabbed my attention because it stood in contrast to the others.

I do not know whether Greek has a specific word for party, but that certainly seems to be what Levi was hosting after he decided to follow Jesus. If I invited you over to my house and told you that not only would there be chicken wings, chips and dip, and a fruit and veggie spread, but that Henry’s was catering the rest of the meal with its entire menu, you would probably ask, “So when do I show up to the party?”

A large group of people. A great feast. Reclining at the table.

I did not grow up Christian. I had this idea that Christians were sort of like Ned Flanders from The Simpsons, dry, stale characters you could tolerate but would not go out of your way to be around. Not many parties happening at the Flanders house.

Do you know what changed that?

Beginning at Easter 2008, it was the men I met at NorthStar Church. Some are still there, while many have moved on to other churches and cities. Men like Mike, C.A., Marlon, Jamie, Daniel, and many others. I saw a masculinity that was strong yet grace-filled. They walked upright, but they still laughed. They would plan marriage retreats in fun cities and then turn around and feed children who would not have a meal once school let out.

That became my goal for every group we ever led, and it can be summed up in two words:

Depth and fun.

If it is deep but not fun, eventually you burn out, and then the depth no longer matters. If it is fun without depth, it becomes shallow, and you are anchored to nothing.

I have always had this thought: if it is really deep, we need to find a way to make it more fun; and if it is fun, we need to find a way to add depth.

I cannot remember who came up with the idea, but our couples group had an annual tradition of grabbing Thanksgiving bags for the Big Give and all showing up at ALDI at the same time. We would count down, then each family would race through the store trying to fill the list as fast as possible and be the first family to finish.

There may have been a little underhandedness, with items mysteriously disappearing from other contestants’ carts (looking at you, Fishers), but I cannot tell you how gratifying it was to walk out those doors laughing, get our quarters back, and gather around a large table at Buffalo’s or the much-missed Lulu’s.

And in the middle of a difficult lesson on surrendering pride, God wanted us to notice that Levi threw a party for Jesus and his friends.

Ask yourself:

HEART: Where do the deep, meaningful things I am doing to build God’s kingdom need more fun? Where are the fun things I love doing, and how can I add purpose to them?

SOUL: Would I describe my relationship with God as deep, fun, or both?

STRENGTH: This week, identify one person or group you have been meaning to invest in and plan something enjoyable with no agenda other than being together. Depth does not always need a curriculum. Sometimes it just needs a table, a meal, and enough time to laugh. Then show up.

May today you go in peace, surrendered to God’s sight, that which is good, free from shame and pride, and go deep — but have fun.

“Do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.” Nehemiah 8:10 ESV

 


Curt Bowen is a husband, father, and group leader who loves engaging in apologetics, theology, and good BBQ. A thrill-seeker at heart, he enjoys roller coasters and has an appreciation for snakes—just not the conversational type.

 

Digging Deeper: Pride vs. Humility

 

30 And the Pharisees and their scribes grumbled at his disciples, saying, “Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?” 31 And Jesus answered them, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.”

Luke 5:30-31 (ESV)


 

PRIDE vs. HUMILITY

 

Is pride merely a sin, or is pride the sin?

There is a term in philosophy called ontology, which is the study of the nature of reality itself. It seeks an anchor to reality, often called grounding. In the same way that we might ask why a person has unexpectedly lost weight and has elevated liver enzymes, an oncologist may discover that cancer is grounding those symptoms, and then ask an even deeper question: what caused the cancer?

The church father Augustine viewed pride as the first sin. Not merely that it was the first sin committed in the garden by Adam and Eve, but that it is ontologically the grounding of all other sin.

Because what is pride?

Pride is a manifestation of the ego that lifts the self above God.

Pride does not merely question God; pride accuses God.

If Jesus was divine, then the Pharisees and their scribes were quite literally telling God, You are doing something wrong. You should be doing things our way.

But perhaps that sounds too far-fetched, you might say. They did not know Jesus was God at the time. He was simply another rabbi in their eyes.

But that is precisely the point about pride: we are always limited in knowledge.

You never know whether the neighbor you are judging for neglecting their yard is actually in and out of chemotherapy treatments. Every person you speak to, whether in real life or online, carries a deep and detailed story you do not know.

I had a business partner working on a deal with me in the summer of 2025. Certain things were promised, but the arrangement fell apart when he took a leave of absence. Then an email arrived in my inbox, sharply rebuking both him and me. Use your imagination.

What the sender did not know was that my partner’s leave of absence was because he was trying to move his wife into a new facility in Oklahoma after chemotherapy had stopped working. She met Jesus that September, leaving behind four children, all under the age of twelve.

The person who wrote that email did not know.

And I am not angry with him, because I have done the same thing. I am as guilty as anyone of pride. I can be sneaky, quick to judge, and arrogant because I think I have figured it all out.

Pride is the hardest sin to diagnose because it is like an anchor resting on the ocean floor at the end of a long chain, while all we notice is the ship being tossed on the surface.

If you want to truly sail, you need humility.

A humble heart assumes the best in others until proven otherwise and holds itself with the strictest modesty possible.

The smartest people I have ever met say this phrase more than anyone else:

“I don’t know.”

Satan ultimately could not elevate himself to equality with God because he did not know what God knew, he only thought he did.

None of us will ever fully know, and there is freedom in admitting what reality imposes upon us:

God is all-knowing. I am not.

If He says it, I believe it. If He calls me, I will obey.

Ask yourself:

HEART: Is there a friend, family member, neighbor, celebrity, politician, or someone else you have judged while knowing only part of their story?

SOUL: Have you accused God? Not questioned Him, but said something like, “God, if only You had…”

STRENGTH: This week, before you send that email, make that call, or fire off that response, pause and ask what you may not know about the other person’s story. Then decide.

May you go in peace today, surrendered to humility.

13 But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” 14 I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted. Luke 18:13–14 ESV

 


Curt Bowen is a husband, father, and group leader who loves engaging in apologetics, theology, and good BBQ. A thrill-seeker at heart, he enjoys roller coasters and has an appreciation for snakes—just not the conversational type.

 

Digging Deeper: Decision vs. Surrender

 

 And leaving everything, he rose and followed him.

Luke 5:28 (ESV)


 

DECISION vs. SURRENDER

 

Have you ever wondered what the difference is between making a decision and surrendering? If NorthStar had chosen to do 30 Days of Decisions, it would have quite a different ring to it, wouldn’t it?

One of the clearest places this question reaches the heart is in addiction, because addictive substances and behaviors are often very difficult to simply decide not to pursue. The troubling reality is that a decision made now can be undone later. In fact, you can make ninety-nine correct decisions to turn away from addiction, but as long as the hundredth decision moves toward it, you find yourself right back in the trap.

How exhausting.

The primary mover in a decision seems to be myself. In surrender, it seems to be an outside force. Think of surrender on a battlefield. It is really one decisive act, not one hundred separate decisions.

You could argue that there are degrees of surrender. Perhaps it is helpful to surrender certain aspects of my will daily, especially the parts I know will benefit both myself and others. But on the other hand, I have found what could be called complete surrender to be the most freeing.

I do not have complete surrender in every area of my life. There are many areas where I wish I did. But in the few places where I truly have surrendered, it is marvelous.

I surrendered intimacy with any other woman when I got married. I do not wake up each day wondering, Should I stay with my wife? Should I leave her? For me, that was a one-time surrender.

I surrendered my life to Christ on Easter 2008 during Mike’s prayer at the end of the service. I do not question each morning whether I am going to follow the Lord. I am simply His.

That is why I say surrender is marvelous, though I fully admit it can also be frustrating. Decisions can feel like flipping light switches in your house. Complete surrender is more like jumping off a cliff into water. It is the irreversible nature of the act that makes surrender difficult to replicate.

In twelve-step programs, I would argue that the functionally greatest step is the third one, which says:

3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.

Notice, it says made a decision, not made many decisions.

Similarly, Jesus used a simple phrase to invite people into surrender:

“Follow me.”

And Luke tells us that Levi left everything and followed Jesus.

Complete surrender.

Ask yourself:

HEART: Am I exhausted by repeated decisions in that one stubborn area where I just cannot seem to break through? Have I made ninety-nine right decisions only to stumble on the hundredth? Could that one area be calling me to do what Levi did and leave everything to follow Jesus?

SOUL: Am I willing to choose complete surrender instead of endlessly flipping light switches? Am I willing to make the jump?

STRENGTH: While complete surrender is a one-time act, the walk still continues. Wives still appreciate flowers. Jesus still delights in your prayers. Addictions require rebuilding what counterfeit comforts once stole. Am I willing to keep putting one foot in front of the other and continue walking from this place of surrender?

May you go in peace today, surrendered to what is good.

“I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.”
Galatians 2:20 ESV

 


Curt Bowen is a husband, father, and group leader who loves engaging in apologetics, theology, and good BBQ. A thrill-seeker at heart, he enjoys roller coasters and has an appreciation for snakes—just not the conversational type.

 

Digging Deeper: Shame vs. Repentance

 

“I have not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance.”

Luke 5:32 (ESV)


 

SHAME vs. REPENTANCE

 

What does it mean for something to be wrong? The challenge is that there are many ways we use the word wrong, and they do not all carry the same meaning.

The quarterback called the wrong play. Then they drew a penalty for lining up in the wrong formation. They would have had a first down, but the receiver ran the wrong route. None of these uses of the word indicate doing something morally wrong, yet we often treat them as if they do, don’t we?

Can’t you just picture the receiver after the play, frustrated with himself because he ran a post route instead of a crossing route? Maybe it cost them the game, and suddenly something appears in his consciousness that was not there before:

SHAME.

And shame does not always come from within. Can’t you almost feel the awkwardness in the room as the Pharisees scrutinized the tax collectors and sinners? Sometimes shame is handed to us by people who think their righteousness gives them that right.

It is in vogue to demonize shame, and for some good reasons. Shame can be a crippling emotion and hold us back in many areas of life. I have even sat through seminars declaring that we should never feel shame whatsoever. Those seminars were completely secular, which led me to a larger theological question: should we ever feel shame?

Let’s add one more detail to our football story. The receiver, upset with himself, suddenly grabs the cornerback’s facemask, rips off his helmet, and slams it to the ground. Before, we were talking about wrong in the sense of being functionally wrong or procedurally wrong. But now the wide receiver has done something morally wrong.

As I left that seminar and reflected on what I know from Scripture, something occurred to me:

Shame and repentance are not the same thing.

Shame is an emotion. Repentance is an act of the will.

Shame is the man walking down the street toward the familiar drug house and all the sins associated with it, muttering to himself, “I’m such an idiot. Why am I doing this again? I’m worthless.”

Repentance is him stopping in his tracks and saying, “No more.” Then turning and walking back toward the sober living house.

It seems to me that shame is clearly inappropriate in several situations. That man who has turned around and is walking back toward sobriety should not continue beating himself up. If you are forgiven and have repented, shame is no longer the appropriate response.

Nor should the tight end condemn himself because he lined up in the backfield and drew a penalty for illegal formation. Functional and procedural wrongs do not warrant shame.

The problem with shame is that it is an emotion, and emotions can be wildly deceptive. We can all picture the hardened criminal on death row who feels no shame, while also thinking of the mother working tirelessly for her family who seems to feel it constantly.

It seems to me that the time shame is most appropriate is when it precedes true repentance, whether at salvation or after salvation. Even then, whatever grief is experienced is far outweighed by the benefits of turning back to God.

That secular seminar declared that we should feel no shame. The implicit reason seemed to be this: at rock bottom, there is no right or wrong, so why feel bad if moral wrongs do not actually exist?

But moral wrongs do exist, and deep down, we all know it.

If you are saved by the blood of Jesus and have repented of your sins, then shame is a lie you no longer have to believe. What that secular conference asserted, you can declare with even greater confidence because Jesus provides what they could not: the means to remove guilt and free you from shame.

As a Christian, you can not only be free from shame, but uniquely grounded in that freedom.

Ask yourself:

HEART: Am I suffering from unnecessary shame? Do I feel it when someone honks at me, even when I have done nothing morally wrong? Listen to the voice in your head. Do you beat yourself up internally? Would you ever allow someone else to say to you what you say to yourself?

SOUL: Am I feeling shame because the Holy Spirit is asking me to repent of something morally wrong that I have done? Remember, the world will tell you that shame can be defeated either by denying the wrong or by outperforming it. But the only thing that truly cleanses wrongdoing is Jesus.

STRENGTH: Do not let sin linger. Repent quickly, because repentance turns grief into peace.

May you go in peace today, surrendered to repentance and then freed from shame.

“For the Scripture says, ‘Everyone who believes in him will not be put to shame.'”
Romans 10:11 ESV

 


Curt Bowen is a husband, father, and group leader who loves engaging in apologetics, theology, and good BBQ. A thrill-seeker at heart, he enjoys roller coasters and has an appreciation for snakes—just not the conversational type.

 

Digging Deeper: Sight vs. Scrutiny

 

27 After this he went out and saw a tax collector named Levi, sitting at the tax booth. And he said to him, “Follow me.” 30 And the Pharisees and their scribes grumbled at his disciples, saying, “Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?”  

Luke 5:27, 30 (ESV)


 

SIGHT vs. SCRUTINY

 

I’m guessing you’re looking at a phone, possibly a monitor or tablet. Take a brief moment and notice: do you see a blank dot in your vision? It should be about the size of a grapefruit held at arm’s length.

Don’t see anything? Good. It’s not there for me either. But technically, it is there for both of us. Your whole life, that grapefruit-sized hole has been blocking what you see every day. It exists because there is a blind spot where the optic nerve attaches to the retina. There are no photoreceptors there, no rods, no cones, no information passed on. So why don’t we see a blank spot?

The brain has a remarkable way of filling in what it believes is missing, almost like the paintbrush tool in Adobe Illustrator. So instead of a hole, you see the full canvas. What an incredible tool our brains are.

However, that raises a question: if our brains are so magnificently designed that they can fill in missing information about the physical world, are they capable of doing the same elsewhere?

The Scriptures contain several instances of Jesus simply seeing people. He saw Levi and asked him to follow Him. Similarly, He saw Nathanael and Zacchaeus. Now contrast that with the sight of the Pharisees:

“Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?”

There is no denying that the people at the party were sinners, although it is worth mentioning that you could ask that question of anyone, including the Pharisees themselves, because all of us are sinners. But what I find more interesting is the part about eating with tax collectors.

It is certainly true that tax collectors were looked down upon because many of them helped themselves, sometimes generously, to the taxes they collected. But I find it hard to believe that all tax collectors acted that way. It is similar to assuming every used car salesman is trying to cheat you.

The Pharisees were seeing reality mostly correctly. Jesus was eating with sinners and with a professional group known for corruption. But Jesus’ response is brilliant. This is one reason why, when non-believers read the Gospels, Jesus is so often described as a captivating figure. He responds:

31 And Jesus answered them, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.
32 I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.”

He did not bend reality. He did not deny their accusation. He filled in the blind spot.

When I lack information about a person, my brain often fills in the missing space. Sometimes correctly, sometimes incorrectly. The wonderful thing about God is that He knows only truth and all truth. What may be an illusion to me is seen plainly by God.

The Pharisees had a grapefruit-sized blind spot labeled “sinners and crooked.” Jesus had a blind spot filled with “sinners in need of repentance.”

Ask yourself:

HEART: How do I see people I do not know? Where might my blind spots be showing up on social media, in the news, or in real life?

SOUL: When I stand before God, He sees me without a blind spot, every part of my story. The parts I hide, the parts I am ashamed of, and the parts I have forgotten are all seen plainly. Does the way I see others reflect the way God sees me? Am I willing to ask Him to fill in my blind spots with truth rather than assumption?

STRENGTH: This week, before forming an opinion about someone online, in the news, or in your neighborhood, pause and name what you do not know about them. Practice saying, “I do not have the full picture here.” Then act toward them as if the missing information is generous rather than condemning.

May you go today in peace, surrendered to God’s sight.

“For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.”
1 Samuel 16:7 ESV

 


Curt Bowen is a husband, father, and group leader who loves engaging in apologetics, theology, and good BBQ. A thrill-seeker at heart, he enjoys roller coasters and has an appreciation for snakes—just not the conversational type.

 

Digging Deeper: Don’t Waste the Waiting

 

And Jesus increased in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man. 

Luke 2:52 (ESV)


 

DON’T WASTE THE WAITING

 

The light peeked in through the window screens, and I barely moved. I could feel every inch of the OSB board just below the thin mattress. It gave an unyielding pressure, sending a dull throb crawling up my back. I shifted, then shifted again, but there was no position where the ache didn’t bloom and spread. It didn’t matter that the bell was ringing—I both wanted to lie in that bed longer and not be in it at the same time.

Then I heard a deep voice beside me. A hand rested on my shoulder as I lay on my side. But the voice wasn’t a counselor’s. It was familiar.

“Hey, Dad. It’s time. Morning Watch is about to start.”

I sat up, but not fully. I exited diagonally, my sandy feet hitting the floor. With bits of grit clinging to my skin, my adult brain finally understood the importance of the nightly broom sweepings.

As we walked down the dirt hill, I overheard two boys—both far younger than my sons—talking to each other.

“I heard there’s a giant turtle that lives at the bottom of the lake.”
“The lower one?”
“No, the upper one with the dock. And it once ate a kid’s toe.”

I almost blurted out, finger—almost. But I stayed silent.

The chaplain was Matt, and he nearly collided with my oldest son as we approached the makeshift amphitheater by the lake.

“Tripp, you have those forms turned in?”

Tripp shook his head no.

Matt smiled. Crow’s-feet lined the corners of his eyes—the kind I tend to notice on people who have been walking with the Lord for a long time.

“You’ll be good with the kids.”

Matt moved to the center as we settled into our seats. The roar of Morning Watch dropped an octave, layered with the weight of grown voices—fathers seated shoulder to shoulder with their sons on the benches, all facing forward. Matt said nothing at first, letting the silence stretch. His gaze drifted upward, breath slow and deliberate, as though he were counting the trees one by one.

“This place… is special, for God is here.”

There are two theories of time. One is like a book, where the past is as real as the present and the future—kind of like how a book has all its pages coexisting at the same time. The other is that only the present exists. The past is truly gone; the future is merely potential. I’m inclined to think the latter is true. If so, the stories I’ve shared here—those moments, the way the trees leaned, the way the campers and counselors looked, and even some of the people themselves—all of that is gone. All that is left are memories.

In one sense, the moments—from searching for Cary to attending father-son weekend at the same camp—seemed to stretch on forever. In another, they passed in the blink of an eye. 2026 is out there, waiting—full of potential for you to build God’s kingdom: to witness, to encourage, to serve. Don’t waste it. I once heard Tim Tebow say something along the lines of, “I don’t want to enter heaven well rested.”

Remember what we’ve learned this week. Jesus truly grew—in wisdom, stature, and favor. He is worthy of worship, receiving what belongs to God alone. Love for God is shown through obedience, by aligning our will with His. God’s commands are not burdensome, but flow from perfect love and wisdom. And because our time is brief, don’t waste the waiting—seek Jesus, worship Him, and pour your life out on what lasts.

 


Curt Bowen is a husband, father, and group leader who loves engaging in apologetics, theology, and good BBQ. A thrill-seeker at heart, he enjoys roller coasters and has an appreciation for snakes—just not the conversational type.

 

Digging Deeper: Worthy of Worship

 

And Jesus increased in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man

Luke 2:52 (ESV)


 

WORTHY OF WORSHIP

 

Without lights, and with only the noise from the wind and insects, it’s really hard to stay up late. Likewise, it’s really hard to sleep in with the sun’s rays on your nose. The soft mattress cradled my back as I stared at the underside of the top bunk. By now, postcards from loved ones were tucked into every crevice I could find. And that familiar bell rang out again across the sky.

I knelt over my trunk, tossing items out like a dog digging in sand. There was only one shirt for today: it was my only collared shirt, and my only white shirt that didn’t have sports logos or cartoon characters on it.

As our cabin arrived at Morning Watch, we sat on two benches marked 26. A sea of white shirts with dusty imprints surrounded the makeshift cross in a half-circle. The chaplain gave a unique message. Normally, we’d hear about building character or some life lesson, but today was Sunday.

I didn’t go to church back home. Sundays at camp focused on God, and we would hear about Jesus. Throughout the week, we would sing songs mostly about being in the wild. Fire on the Mountain, Country Roads, and Rocky Top were all staples. But on Sundays, we sang about Jesus.

Why do we sing songs about Jesus, but not the disciples? What about some of the heroes of the faith throughout history? Why don’t we sing about Billy Graham? Or Martin Luther King Jr.? Or Mother Teresa?

Take a moment to really—I mean really—think about the following question: What does it mean to be worthy of worship? I do not mean mere admiration or praise, but being worshiped. Nor do I mean that people haven’t been worshiped. Plenty of musicians, athletes, actors, and politicians have been worshiped. But what would it mean for someone to be worthy of worship?

Worship is appropriate only if its object is morally perfect and unsurpassable. In other words, a being worthy of worship would have to be not only maximally great, but morally perfect. In this sense, God is the only being who deserves worship. God is, by definition, the greatest possible being. He is also morally perfect, including both perfect love and justice. This is the God we find in the Bible.

In Scripture, men and angels refused worship,* while Jesus welcomed it.** Think of the woman who wiped Jesus’ feet with her hair—or the alabaster jar broken open and poured out on Him. Jesus didn’t correct them by saying that only God is worthy of worship. Instead, He received it.

This is not, by itself, an argument for the divinity of Jesus. Rather, it reveals the radical nature of Jesus’ self-understanding. Jesus saw Himself as being able to stand in the place of God and speak. He forgave sins, modified Old Testament Law, and even received worship—all actions strictly assigned to God. Jesus saw Himself as God; it was what got Him crucified.

And while this alone is not an argument for Jesus being God, if Jesus was raised from the dead, then that is the ultimate vindication of these radical claims. If the resurrection occurred, we can have confidence that Jesus truly is worthy of worship.

So what is the best way to worship? In my own life, I’ve found it is by elevating God above all else. Whatever competes for your attention, tell Him He is greater.

God, You are more exciting than the vacation I’ve been planning.
God, You are more affirming than any raise or pat on the back from work.
God, You are more secure than any amount of money in my bank account.

Worship Him—because He is truly worth it.

* Revelation 19:10; Acts 10:25-26
** John 9:38; Matthew 28:9, 17; 14:36

 


Curt Bowen is a husband, father, and group leader who loves engaging in apologetics, theology, and good BBQ. A thrill-seeker at heart, he enjoys roller coasters and has an appreciation for snakes—just not the conversational type.

 

Digging Deeper: No Candy, No Exceptions

 

And Jesus increased in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man. 

Luke 2:52 (ESV)

 For this is the love of God, that we keep his commandments. And his commandments are not burdensome.

1 John 5:3 (ESV)

 Saying, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.”

Luke 22:42 (ESV)


 

NO CANDY, NO EXCEPTIONS

 

There were a few rules to make summers more… wild at Falling Creek Camp. Clearly, there was a ban on any technology, and I was mostly fine with that. My Sony Walkman and Game Boy, as essential as they were, could live back home for the 27 days we spent in the woods. Most phones had cords back then, and you weren’t calling home. You could spend the silent period writing to your parents, but few letters were written. The rooms were broom-swept nightly—the floors bare and spotless, nothing out of place, nothing allowed to linger.

But the kicker was always candy. No candy, no exceptions.

I knew kids who had spent June building false bottoms in their trunks. At least the adults could tell they’d been paying attention in woodworking. Cary’s older brother and my cousin Hamilton even stripped the laces from a football to fill it with candy. He didn’t foresee the counselor asking for a pass on our arrival day. Hesitantly, Hamilton threw a perfect spiral across the cabin—when a Now and Later spun out as well. It slid to rest at the feet of Aunt Allison, who grew to a shade of red that matched the cherry flavor.

Never doubt the ingenuity of young boys with a sugar addiction.

We were in our favorite period—skipping. My trunk sat in the middle of the cabin, surrounded by Frank, Hamilton, and two boys whose names I no longer recall. I do remember what was on the trunk: Starburst, Warheads, Jolly Ranchers, Skittles, and Airheads. I reached for a playing card from a pile. As I shuffled, I looked up—and everyone’s eyes were as wide as the pile in the middle of the trunk.

Twigs snapping, leaves crunching, and the heavy, methodical pace of someone—or something—was approaching. Hamilton and the other two dove underneath the bunk beds, ditching their cards, as Frank and I froze in the middle of the room. The screen door slammed open.

Our counselor had a clean buzz cut, and the sleeves of his T-shirt stayed rolled whether he meant them to or not. He spoke little, but his stories always started with where he was sent, not why. He gazed around the room as cards fell to the floor. I don’t think Frank or I actually breathed as he scanned the room, perhaps acting on animal instincts, hoping for camouflage.

He knelt beside the trunk of candy and locked eyes with me. And without even looking, he reached under the bunk bed and grabbed Hamilton, flailing like a freshly caught fish.

I once heard a definition of “love” that says to love someone is to “will the good for them.” If that’s the definition, it raises a question: how can you love God? God isn’t just Himself good—God literally is the standard for what is good. How do you will the good for… the good?

No matter how much we told the counselors we appreciated them, even loved them, disobedient actions seemed to stick out more than mere words, didn’t they? It seems to me the primary way we show love toward God is by aligning our will with His, similar to what John said in his epistle: to “keep His commandments.”

Jesus took aligning His will with God’s will so seriously that He even conditioned His request not to go to the cross with, “Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.”

Rules about candy and technology may feel arbitrary—probably good ideas for young kids. But suppose the rules were created by a perfect, infallible being? What if every possible consequence of those rules could be known—and not only known, but known to lead to good? Whether that good was for the person the rule was prescribed to, another, or even the rule-giver Himself. Adherence would be wise, good, and loving.

Today, know that God loves you. And following what He commands is how you can say, “I love you,” back.

 


Curt Bowen is a husband, father, and group leader who loves engaging in apologetics, theology, and good BBQ. A thrill-seeker at heart, he enjoys roller coasters and has an appreciation for snakes—just not the conversational type.

 

Digging Deeper: With Respect To

 

And Jesus increased in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man. 

Luke 2:52 (ESV)


 

WITH RESPECT TO

 

In the distance, the echoes of a bell shook the morning air. I popped up, barely missing the OSB board above my head, on the soft mattress. Bodies scurried through the cabin, alternating through the lone bathroom. A handful of two-minute showers, mismatched outfits, and cursory toothbrushing later, our group was herding itself down a dirt hill toward Morning Watch.

Mornings were usually the same. Morning Watch came first, an inspirational message delivered from benches facing a cross made of branches from the forest floor. Breakfast followed, a family-style meal with the entire camp. You stood behind your chair, hat in hand, for the morning blessing:

Gracious giver of all good,
Thee we thank for rest and food.
Grant that all we do or say,
In thy service be this day.
Amen.

Humorous skits and songs on the deck were the last thing before periods began: riflery, archery, canoeing, fishing, rock climbing, or skipping. My cousin Frank and I chose the latter. Walking down to an empty shack, he threw his arm in front of my chest. We hid behind a tree as an adult passed. We snuck into the hut and closed the door.

A pen about the size of a queen bed had a sign above it that read Bowser. Inside was the largest turtle I had ever seen. I could’ve ridden on his back like the horses up the hill at the farm. Frank was unamused.

“He’s dead.”

“No he isn’t.”

He grabbed a wooden broom from the corner, something in his eyes changing. Holding the bristles, he slid the handle slowly toward the beast’s face. It didn’t move. It didn’t blink. It didn’t even seem to breathe. Maybe he was right. He began bouncing the broom tip on its snout, and I began to believe him, until we heard footsteps outside.

As we peered through the slats in the door, a crackling sound rang out. Frank pulled up half a broomstick. It hadn’t snapped off the tip; the turtle had reached up as we looked away, and a clean cut broke the broom in half, right near Frank’s hands.

It’s fairly clear that each of us grows in wisdom over time. But how in the world does Jesus, being both God and man, increase in wisdom? God is omniscient. He knows everything. Isn’t that a contradiction?

Borrowing an example I’ve used before, and timely with the third film’s release, Avatar can be a helpful illustration (the word avatar literally means “descent” or incarnation). Jake Sully is a disabled soldier who enters the body of a Na’vi through a mind-body connection and futuristic technology. He thus has two natures, a human nature and a Na’vi nature. In his Na’vi body, the first thing he does is run outside the lab to sprint through the fields of Pandora.

So which is he, disabled or ambulatory?

This is the same problem theologians face with Jesus, and they’ve come up with a way of talking that is helpful. They use the phrase “with respect to.” So to answer the previous question, Jake is handicapped with respect to his human nature, but he is ambulatory with respect to his Na’vi nature. No contradiction.

Similarly, Jesus was omniscient with respect to his divine nature. He never lost that. But with respect to his human nature, he was limited in knowledge. He wasn’t acting when he said he was unaware of the date of his second coming; he was being honest. And in that sense, Jesus truly did grow in wisdom.

I doubt Jesus ever poked any Mediterranean turtles with a broomstick. But just like twelve-year-old me, he experienced the wilderness in a truly human way. And that makes him truly relatable to us.

 


Curt Bowen is a husband, father, and group leader who loves engaging in apologetics, theology, and good BBQ. A thrill-seeker at heart, he enjoys roller coasters and has an appreciation for snakes—just not the conversational type.

 

Digging Deeper: The God Who Grew Up

 

41 Now his parents went to Jerusalem every year at the Feast of the Passover. 42 And when he was twelve years old, they went up according to custom. 43 And when the feast was ended, as they were returning, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem. His parents did not know it, 44 but supposing him to be in the group they went a day’s journey, but then they began to search for him among their relatives and acquaintances, 45 and when they did not find him, they returned to Jerusalem, searching for him. 46 After three days they found him in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions.

Luke 2:41-46 (ESV)


 

THE GOD WHO GREW UP

 

There was no comfortable way to wear my headphones. The flimsy foam barely kept the hard metal from pressing into my inner ear. The windowsill bumped my head again, and I ripped them off. I didn’t really need another round of Michael Jackson anyway, and the cassette needed to be flipped.

“The sign says left, Tom,” my mom said, pointing up a steep hill.

The sedan slowed, then straddled the shallow valley carved into the middle of the road. A few more miles and we stopped. A group of teenagers in green caps and white coveralls lifted a gray trunk from our car. We were waved down another hill into a parking lot, and suddenly, we were there.

As I looked around, I saw two lakes, one perched slightly above the other. A dock, mostly crooked trees with a few Home Depot boards mixed in, stretched across the upper lake. An A-frame building with a wraparound porch stood nearby, game tables tucked underneath. I started walking toward the water when I heard a shriek.

“She’s gone!”

“Who?”

“Cary. She was here. We visited the cabin and then I… she just disappeared.”

My aunt Allison is not a quiet person. Within minutes, hundreds of parents, counselors, and directors were combing the woods of North Carolina. They searched the lower lake, then the upper lake. The dining hall. The dock. Every single cabin. Only to find Cary asleep in the back of the car.

The first three Gospels, Matthew, Mark, and Luke, are often grouped together because they tell Jesus’ story in similar ways. They’re called the Synoptics, meaning “to be seen together.” John stands apart, written independently, with a different style and focus.

Because Mark was written first, it’s sometimes argued that Matthew and Luke simply copied him, leaving us with fewer independent accounts of Jesus’ life than we think. But the historical method lets us see more than literary dependence. Both Matthew and Luke contain material that does not come from Mark and reflect independent sources behind their Gospels.

Scholars often call these sources M (unique to Matthew) and L (unique to Luke). Luke’s L material is especially intimate, family-centered, remembered, and personal. Many scholars believe it preserves testimony from women who were present from the beginning, including Mary, the mother of Jesus, and Mary Magdalene. One such memory, found only in Luke, is the story of Jesus being lost at age twelve.

And that makes sense, doesn’t it?

That story is told from a parent’s point of view. The fear. The frantic search. The relief mixed with confusion. Just like my aunt Allison. Just like any mother. Mary never forgot losing her child.

So much of our eyewitness testimony about Jesus centers around his ministry and Passion Week (and rightfully so). But Mary gives us a tiny glimpse into a time erased by history. Jesus was a baby, a toddler, and a young boy before he was a man. He truly grew in the same way we do.

If life feels messy today, remember this: Jesus grew too.

Even the Son of God had to grow.


Curt Bowen is a husband, father, and group leader who loves engaging in apologetics, theology, and good BBQ. A thrill-seeker at heart, he enjoys roller coasters and has an appreciation for snakes—just not the conversational type.